


Daddy by Emeli Sande

by mortysmithh



Series: Rick and Morty songfics [4]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Crystal Kalaxian, Drug Use, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I don't really know how to tag this so, Incest, M/M, Marijuana, Smoking, Weed Smoking, uhh, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:23:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5121521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortysmithh/pseuds/mortysmithh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got a request on Tumblr!!</p><p>"Can I have some sort of angsty alchoholic/drug addicted rickmorty ((bonus points if its morty thats fucked up))"</p><p>I also made it a songfic bc I'm awful heRe</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy by Emeli Sande

_He's out your system yeah it took you a while_

_You got your family back and you got your smile_

Every time Rick threatens to leave, it’s lighthearted, joking about something that Morty had started dreading right from the moment he’d seen Rick, met Rick, realized that they had something that Rick refused to address for reasons both obvious and unknown. It still causes Morty to stay up at night, rocking back and forth while hugging his knees like they’re the last thing keeping him anchored to this planet, to this reality.

_And you promised your sister that you'd never go back again_

_But friends keep telling you what he did last night_

He does his best to ignore the way Rick brags so much about how much he gets laid, not coming back until 4 in the morning, so drunk that Morty’s had to clean up his piss numerous times, his vomit even more times, and giggling and stinking with sex as he belches out probably overexaggerated stories about the hot aliens he’s fucked that night. It’s almost enough to turn him off of any future adventures. _Ha, that’s a fucking lie_ , his mind decides to butt in. He knows he’s just lying to himself; nothing would ever make him wish to stop going out to places with Rick.

_How many girls he kissed, how many he liked_

_And you try to remember that there's no way you could ever be friends_

Rick’s like an escape from himself; his attitude, no matter what it is, is always infectious, spreading to anyone and everyone near. More often than not, it’s Morty, and every time they go into that damned spaceship, it’s always different. Always. It’s enough to drive someone insane, but Morty’s starting to think that he crossed that line long ago, and now he’s just keeping himself from tipping over the edge of keeping himself in reality.

_But now you're_

_You're looking like you really like him, like him_

Fantasy hurts less, because when he’s high off of K-Lax, he can have a relationship with the pillows stuffed into Rick’s clothing that he never fails to return long before Rick comes back home. He can kiss the pillow that’s Rick’s head, inhale the scent of cigarettes and drugs and alcohol that permeates his grandfather’s coat as he hugs the effigy and he can pretend that it’s the Real Rick, His Rick that’s hugging him back.

_And now you're feeling like you miss him, miss him_

_You're speaking like you really love him, love him_

_And now you're dancing like you need him, need him_

And he can pretend that Rick’s fucking him as he masturbates on his bed at 1 in the morning with his face shoved into that same labcoat. It isn’t like he’ll get caught; the smell of sweat and cum and alcohol and whatever drugs Morty’s taken that night will blend right in with Rick’s labcoat. He doesn’t even have to worry about staining it; the labcoat’s an off-white colour at this point with how many stains Rick’s managed to get on it. Morty’s almost bitter about it, but he reminds himself that he’s not allowed to be possessive. They aren’t together.

_Put it in your pocket don't tell anyone I gave ya_

_It can be the one you run to, the one that saves ya_

Morty stammers out a request to ‘try’ some of Rick’s secret drugs, and Rick just laughs and ruffles his hair, nodding and going over to a drawer that Morty takes great care to memorize the location of. Rick messes around in the drawer for a moment before coming up with a bag of weed that’s a pale blue colour, taking out a nugget and jamming it messily into a pipe as he slurs out, “H-Here, this- that’s the good shit, Morty.” He’d already been shitfaced drunk, morals gone. Morty just wishes he’d asked for more than drugs that one night that Rick had been so sloshed. They’re so rare.

_It can be your daddy daddy if you take it gladly gladly_

_Daddy daddy_

He’d smoked it all in one go, dragging a sharp, impressed laugh out of Rick. He wishes he’d recorded it; Rick hardly ever praises him, at least not outwardly.

_He kissed you on the lips and opened your eyes_

_You had to catch your breath, got such a surprise_

The alien weed gives him hallucinations, and after several terrifying times of getting high, he’d deduced that you only get good hallucinations with this weed. _'Really the ‘good shit’ I guess,’_ he’d thought with only a semi-bitter laugh to himself before taking another bit of weed. It isn’t like Rick would notice.

_And you always forgot how it feels to live in his lies_

_He pulled you closer, said he'll never let go_

He blows a puff of smoke out of the window, leaning back against the bed he’d repositioned so that it sat right by his window, and he lets the hallucinations come. Rick comes into his room, simply materializing not more than three feet away from him, and he’s smiling. A genuine, honestly happy smile, and he isn’t happy for any other reason than he’s there with Morty. Morty smiles back, eyes half-lidded as he reaches out with one free arm and makes grabbing motions. Rick smiles wider, shaking his head and laughing softly as he goes over and sits on the bed next to Morty. He caresses Morty’s face gently, pressing a light kiss to his forehead that makes the shorter sigh out a happy sound.

_You couldn't trust him but you never said no_

_In that moment he made you forgot how it feels when he's gone_

They makeout for a few minutes before Rick disappears, and it’s awful because it had already felt fake, he can only hallucinate so much, can only imagine it to be so real until reality slaps him hard in the face like a bucket of ice water. It’s still jarring and upsetting whenever Rick disappears.

_But now you're_

_You're looking like you really like him, like him_

And one day Rick’s needling him more than usual on the way back home, laughing at how hard Morty had sobbed at his frankly dick move of a prank, pretending to be dead after smearing the alien’s human-esque blood all over his front. Morty isn’t ashamed, not one bit that he’d cried so hard, he’s only ashamed that he fell for yet another of Rick’s idea of ‘humour’. Then he lets slip that he likes Rick, and he doesn’t specify, but the tone of his voice alone is uncontrolled and too emotional, not grandson-for-his-grandfather love at all, and Rick shuts up for the rest of the ride.

_But now you're feeling like you miss him, miss him_

_You're speaking like you really love him, love him_

_And now you're dancing like you need him, need him_

It’s 3 in the morning and that night, Morty doesn’t care anymore, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and chainsmoking through five of them before slowing down to glare at a tiny bag of weed that he’s pulled out of underneath his bed. He doesn’t know if he can deal with fooling himself like this anymore, and he tells himself that he’s only smoking it because he’s an addict, because facing the struggles of any sort of addiction is still easier than facing his addiction to his godawful grandfather.

_Put it in your pocket don't tell anyone I gave ya_

_It can be the one you run to, the one that saves ya_

Rick appears much earlier than usual. He’s barely blown out the cloud, floating up to the ceiling because he hadn’t cared enough to open the window like he usually does. He doesn’t care; the smoke smells like blueberries, his parents won’t notice, and he doubts they would even if it _did_ smell like regular weed. He grins at the Rick, eyes going slightly red as the veins bulge from the alien cannabis snaking through his veins. “Mmh, y-you- you’re baaack, Rick...love you,” he slurs out, grabbing at the bottle of vodka next to him and holding it out with an angry, bitter laugh that shows he knows it’s a fake Rick. “Want shome?” He tips his head back, taking about three shots’ worth of the disgusting drink before tossing the empty bottle to the ground. “Jush- just kidding- kid- kidding, you- you’re not real,” he says with another one of those horrible laughs that no teenager should know how to make. “Kish me anywayzsh, you- fuck it, kiss me, fuck- f-fuck me, you’re not real but I can try.”

_It can be your daddy daddy if you take it gladly gladly_

_Daddy daddy_

And Rick’s frozen, staring at him in horror and having stayed silent throughout this entire rant of a now-crying, drunken, and high-as-balls Morty. His expression’s similar to that of a person very sensitive to anything even remotely gory staring at an awful 10-person car crash on the freeway, body parts scattered everywhere and blood coating the street for a mile up and down each way of said accident, but they can’t look away for the sheer horror of the incident.

_You're looking like you really like him, like him_

_(I can kinda like him)_

_And now you're feeling like you miss him, miss him_

_(I kinda miss him)_

And then Rick’s gripping Morty by the front of his shirt, snarling out “D-Don’t you- don’t y-you- you ever fucking do this again, you hear me?! Y-You’re- you’re too young, _fuck_ ,” and suddenly tears are running down his cheeks and he pulls Morty into a too-tight hug, pulling a wheeze and a weak trail of smoke out of Morty’s lips and nostrils as he realizes he’s been caught by the real Rick. His Rick. Then Rick pulls back, examines Morty’s watery eyes, and presses his lips to the shorter’s with a quiet sigh, as if laying in bed after a particularly weary and emotionally taxing day. A sigh of the utmost relief, like he’s free from everything heavy in his life.

_You're looking like you really love him, love him_

_(And now you love him)_

_And now you're dancing like you need him, need him_

_(Need him)_

The kiss is too short for the both of them, but Rick has to pull back to make sure Morty’s alright with this. “Mort- Morty, you- y-you’re okay with- y-you do like me this way?” He feels stupid saying it, feels like a Morty because he’s never had a problem with consent before, they said they wanted a Rick Sanchez fuck and that’s exactly what they got without so much as another stutter from Rick whether they really wanted it or not.

_Put it in your pocket don't tell anyone I gave ya_

_It can be the one you run to, the one that saves ya_

“Y-Yes, Rick, I- I-I love you,” he blurts out, and any other time he’d apologize, take it back like he did that one night on the spaceship, but he’s high and drunk and drooling a little too much, strings dripping down onto their shirts as he giggles and leans up to kiss Rick messily, and this time it’s harder but in a pleasantly bruising way. Their lips are swollen when Morty pulls back, eyes shining with high happiness and residual tears from earlier.

_It can be your daddy daddy if you take it gladly gladly_

_Daddy daddy_

Rick sighs at seeing how red Morty’s eyes are, and he gently kisses each eyelid before pulling Morty down with him onto the kid’s bed and hugging him tightly around the waist. One arm remains while the other strokes through Morty’s hair twice, then down to touch at his face with calloused fingertips even as he murmurs back, “I-I love you too, now- n-now go the fuck to sleep so that I can- c-can bitch at you tomorrow about doing such dangerous bullshit.” He’s still choking up a bit, can’t believe he’s driven Morty to this point without even realizing, but he can be sad about it later, because right now he’s got his arms full of Morty and it’s exactly as he’d always imagined, as he’d fantasized.

_Put it in your pocket don't tell anyone I gave ya_

_It can be the one you run to, the one that saves ya_

The kid’s soft snores lull him off to sleep soon enough, and he hopes with all of the heart and soul he has left that this isn’t a hallucination, that this is real.

_It can be your daddy daddy if you take it gladly gladly_

_Daddy daddy_

When he wakes up with a squirming Morty trapped in his arms and whining out that he has to piss, he can’t help but to crack a weak smile. It was real, is real.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr's kinkykankri, leave me requests and fic ideas!! <33


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